What Ken Doesn't Know
by Leokitsune
Summary: Aya, Yohji and Omi undertake a secret mission. What happens when Ken finds out about the deception? [One-shot]


**What Ken Doesn't Know. . . **

By Leokitsune  
  
A/N: My attempt at a twist ending. Enjoy. No flames, please. Rating? PG- 13, I suppose, for mild profanity. But I know I knew a lot worse before I reached the age of 13.  
  
Disclaimer: The bishounen of Weiß Kreuz do not belong to me. They belong to Project Weiß, and the guy that is Aya's seiyuu. His name escapes me at the moment, but rest assured, they belong to him. Please don't sue, the only money I have is in my daydreams.

------

"Is it time? Already?"  
  
"Yohji-kun, it's been six weeks."  
  
"Ah. Really." The blond sat back in his chair, yawned lazily and stretched. "All right then. If it's been six weeks–"  
  
"It has." Omi and Yohji turned to the newcomer. The stoic redhead stared impassively back, his chiseled face giving away nothing of his feelings about the subject under discussion. As usual. Yohji reflected sourly that if it wasn't for the fact that Aya needed their help in this secret mission, he wouldn't involve them at all. But he needed Yohji's expertise for this one, as well as Omi's to-the-second sense of planning.  
  
Aya nodded in Omi's direction. "Bombay. Take care of the setup." His violet gaze flicked over to where Yohji slouched in his chair. "Balinese. Get the gear. We'll meet back here at 2000 hours."  
  
"I'm on it." Yohji got up, stretched once more, then scratched his ribs absently.  
  
"All right, Aya-kun!" Omi hopped up, paused, and looked over his shoulder at their team leader. "What about Ken-kun?"  
  
Aya's eyes narrowed imperceptibly. "Siberian has no part in this mission."  
  
"I don't know, Aya-kun. I don't like keeping secrets from one of my team–"  
  
"Aya's right, kid," Yohji said, ruffling Omi's hair. "Ken's not a part of this. If we told him, he would just feel left out. So, what he doesn't know won't hurt him."  
  
"If you say so." Omi still didn't look convinced, but against the solidarity of his older teammates he backed down. Yohji and Aya watched the young blond leave.  
  
"Whew. I thought the kid was going to upset the whole thing."  
  
"Hn."  
  
"Well." Yohji rubbed his hands together. "One crisis averted. How long do you think that we'll be able to convince Omi to keep this from Ken?"  
  
"Bombay won't discuss missions with people that aren't involved." Aya's closed expression indicated that was the end of the matter as far as he was concerned.  
  
Yohji smirked. Aya was so business-minded, he sometimes forgot his teammates had human emotions. Omi's first priority was to insure that the team was a solid unit. Secrets didn't help that goal. Except of course for the secrets that the teen deemed necessary, such as the post-mission reports he sent to Persia that he thought the rest of the team didn't know about.  
  
Yohji wasn't born yesterday. He knew that Kritiker would want to keep an eye on things, so they needed someone on the inside. Ken was too dense, Aya too new, and Yohji knew it wasn't him. So, by process of elimination, voila. It had to be Omi. But this was a mission so secret, even Kritiker didn't know about it.  
  
Oh, he suspected that Manx had her suspicions. He had his suspicions about her, too. He would be celibate for the rest of the year if she didn't occasionally do her own secret missions.  
  
Yohji left Aya plotting out the final details in the mission room and sauntered upstairs. He peeked in on Ken's apartment. Ken's door was open, with his duffel bag sitting right outside where the ex-J-leaguer had obviously dropped it. Probably had been on his way out and had realized he had forgotten something. That was classic Ken.  
  
Sure enough, Ken came out muttering to himself. "Watch, check. Wallet–" he patted his back pocket to check if it was there. "Check. Keys–" He patted his jeans pockets, then the pockets on his jacket. "Damn." Yohji propped himself on the balcony railing and watched in amusement as Ken jogged back in. He heard the jingle of keys, then Ken came back out, smiling triumphantly. "Keys. Got 'em, ready to go."  
  
"Got your ticket?"  
  
"Waaah!" Ken jumped backwards, nearly stumbling over his duffel bag that was sitting in the middle of the walkway. Only his quick feet, honed by his years as a goalie then as an assassin, saved him from landing on his butt.  
  
Yohji clapped his hands sardonically. "Good save, Ken-ken."  
  
"Jeez, Yohji. You just about scared ten years off my life," Ken grumbled as he snatched up the offending duffel bag. He glowered at the tall, lanky figure that slouched with such elegant style against the railing.  
  
The setting sun gave the playboy's blond locks a burnished copper sheen. Casually, Yohji reached up into his front shirt pocket and fished out a pack of cigarettes. He shot a cigarette out of the pack and lit it with a minimum of movement or fuss, but with that lazy style that was Yohji's stamp. It was as much a trademark as his expensive, more-high-tech-than-it-looked watch.  
  
Ken couldn't stay mad at his friend. Yohji was just. . . Yohji. He wasn't known for his dependability, but you could depend on him to be true to who he was. That was something rare to find. "You don't ever change, do you?" Ken asked, shaking his head in equal parts of exasperation, admiration and revelation.  
  
Yohji's even teeth flashed whitely in the waning light. "Hell, no. Why mess with perfection?"  
  
Ken had to laugh at that. "Yeah, you never do change." He raised a brow. "Here to see me off? Omi's already dropped by to say his farewells."  
  
"Kid's like clockwork. We should've called him Timex, rather than Bombay." Yohji shrugged carelessly. "As for me, curiosity killed the cat."  
  
Ken's brows furrowed again. "You'd better not be thinking of breaking into my apartment while I'm gone and drinking all my beer."  
  
Yohji rolled his eyes, lifted his palms upwards, and tilted his head up to the heavens. He looked like a downed angel beseeching the divine to bring him up again. "Gods. Do it once and the guy never lets you live it down." He dropped his hands. "That was a year ago, Ken-ken." His eyes were dancing in amusement, even as he pulled on a pout. "And didn't I promise never, never to do it again? Besides, if I hadn't passed out, I would've restocked, and you would have never known."  
  
Ken shook his head. "That's what you say."  
  
Yohji looked hurt. "What? You don't believe me?"  
  
"Let's just say seeing is believing, and all I saw was an empty refrigerator."  
  
"Hmph." Yohji crossed his arms and genuinely sulked this time.  
  
Ken laughed again and clapped Yohji on the shoulder. "Tell ya what. You can make it up to me. I happen to be out. Before I get back, you can stock me up."  
  
"What?! I already did that a year ago to replace what I drank!"  
  
"No you didn't! I would've remembered if you did. You said you were going to and then took that girl, what was her name? Keiko? To that fancy French restaurant. Then you said you'd get it next payday, and that's when that other girl– "  
  
"Yohji-kun! Ken-kun! Do you mind?" They both looked up to see Omi peering down at them with a small moue of irritation. "Yohji-kun, you never did pay Ken-kun back." With that, Omi disappeared again.  
  
"The Great Omi has spoken. I guess it must be true. Okay, then, it'll be there when you get back."  
  
"You promise?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, get outta here. You're late."  
  
Ken looked at his watch. "Dammit! I'm gonna miss my plane!" He kicked his door closed and locked it, then ran past Yohji. "Bye, Yohji! Don't forget!" He skidded to a halt at the top of the stairs. "Where's Aya?"  
  
Yohji tamped out his cigarette and shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, you know him. Tightest lips in the whole of Tokyo. He can't give us mere mortals the time of day, much less an itinerary."  
  
"Yeah." Ken looked crestfallen for a moment, then shrugged it off. "Oh well. Tell him I'm gone, will ya? I'll be back in two weeks!"  
  
"Sure thing." Yohji waved as Ken raced down the stairs at a scary rate of speed, then hopped on his bike and raced off. His expression of indolent indifference melted away, showing the coolly efficient face of Balinese. "Well, that's one thing out of the way." He made his way purposefully to the parking lot. He had a trip to make to get the equipment needed. It was vitally important that he didn't mess this up, not just for his sake, but for Aya's and Omi's, as well.  
  
---- 

Aya shut the door behind him and surveyed the situation. Omi stood tense in the corner, watching Yohji as the older blond set out the last of the gear. They both waited in silence as Aya slowly went over everything, checking and double-checking every little piece. They hadn't missed a thing, they had been sure. But they would not be able to breathe a sigh of relief until Aya had made his check.  
  
He straightened from his perusal and dipped his head slightly in approval. "Let's do it. I want to get this done in one night. Bombay?"  
  
"We can do it, if Balinese goes first. He's going to take the longest. I'll be next, and you'll take the rear, Abyssinian. You'll be quickest."  
  
"Fair enough," Yohji said. "Let's get this over with."  
  
Ken cursed as the rain fell in sheets around him, obscuring his vision. Damn this weather! Because of the freak storm, his flight had been delayed twice, then finally canceled until tomorrow morning.  
  
Well, at least he could go home. He felt sorry for the guys that weren't as close to home. All the hotels were booked around the airport because of some big convention and he imagined that the other hotels were filling up fast. He sighed to himself, then grinned as a thought occurred to him. Won't the guys be surprised to see him!  
  
-----  
  
Ken walked into the back of the shop, and hung his dripping wet coat on the hook near the door. His sneakers squished squeaked as he toed them off. He sighed in relief as he peeled off the wet socks. He reached for a towel from the stack that they kept near the door, then cursed when he didn't find one. Was nothing going right for him today? Whose turn was it to do the laundry this week? "Yohji," he growled under his breath. He slicked off the excess water from his face as he stalked upstairs.  
  
The shop was dark, as was expected, as well as the mission room and his apartment. But strangely, Aya's apartment's lights were off, too. "That's weird," he muttered. Aya wasn't like Yohji. He never went out at night if he didn't have a mission. As he continued up the stairs, he saw that Omi's lights were out, too. That was even stranger. Omi was always home by this hour on Saturdays. He had an early morning study session on Sunday mornings.  
  
Strangest of all, Yohji's lights were the only ones on. Ken gaped at the rare sight. "Yohji? Home? On a Saturday night?" He looked up at the sky. No, the moon wasn't falling. There was plenty of rain, but no hailstones of fire. "The world cannot be coming to an end," he said, dazed.  
  
A terrible thought occurred to him. What if someone was trying to break in to Yohji's apartment? Or there was something wrong? There had to be. This was completely wrong. He walked like a man in a dream and tried Yohji's door. It was locked. That wasn't unusual. Ken had the lock picked in a matter of seconds. He paused, and debated on whether or not he should get his bugnuks from his place, then shook his head. If there was something wrong, he might not have time to run down there, find them, and come back up. Better to just storm the place.  
  
Ken flung open the door and sprang into the room. "Yohji! Yoh–" he stopped and his jaw dropped at what he saw. It couldn't be. In a million years, he would have NEVER thought it. Never. "You– How– What– Why?" he ended in a wail. He felt several truths that he had thought were unshakable shatter around him.  
  
Aya looked up and narrowed his eyes. "Explain."  
  
"What? NO! You explain!" Ken put his hands on his hips and glared at the redhead. Aya glared back, but his usual violet glower was made ineffectual by the hair-dryer/shower-cap-contraption that dried his freshly dyed hair.  
  
Yohji shrugged his shoulders, trying to be nonchalant but failing miserably. His foil-wrapped highlights poked him in the shoulder, making him wince. "Come on, Ken-ken. We're all Japanese. Do you really think that Aya could be a natural redhead, or me and Omi natural blonds?"  
  
"Noooo," Ken moaned, crumpling to his knees. "This can't be happening."  
  
Omi came wandering out of Yohji's kitchen, nibbling on a rice ball. Small tufts of bleached hair stuck out every-which-way from a highlights cap. "I told you guys we should have told him."

_--Owari_


End file.
